Ashes

Peace Minster, no arms
I shout in East LA,
and hope to God, I live
through the rain.

It’s nothing I’ve seen
or hope for again,
but it falls and burns
going in my lungs.

Fire, be damned
the world’s going to end,
I’ve heard and rejected
through dead, smoky air.

I shouldn’t be running,
I know that well,
but my heart
won’t stop, even in hell.

At least that’s what I think
as it’s happening here,
and I run through it
not giving in.

The ashes aren’t sky
or her crumbling in.
People are crazy,
it will blow away clear.

Peace Minster, no arms
it’s done and gone,
as I’ve stopped my legs
right on the lawn.

I look at blue sky,
her face and eyes,
and brush the ashes
as we move along fine.